Run
by jae-vous
Summary: "Don't get separated." A quick speculative tag to the upcoming finale. T/Z, doing their thing.


_Just a quick tag to the end of this season. Not what I think will actually happen, exactly, but I could definitely see our favorite duo being stuck across the pond, perhaps without back up. It would make for an interesting finale, no?_

**_jae_**

* * *

It's been three weeks since they've been on U.S soil.

They sit outside their latest haunt, a bustling corner cafe, about a block from their current hotel they've found to hide themselves away in for the time being. She concedes only after turning down the first three Tony had pointed out. They chose it for it's shady location and unobtrusive presence, and while the amenities were limited, they were pleasantly surprised to at least find a clean room and a full bed that was _just_ big enough. They'd walked in two days ago under the alias of a recently wedded couple enjoying a romp through Europe, and the front desk had passed over a key with a smile and a wink. The partners are well versed with how to be covert, and they slide into the act with ease, because really, a partnership like theirs breeds a certain domestic familiarity.

And indeed, domesticated they have become.

She looks up from the paper she's scanning without really seeing, trying to quell the jumble of nerves that have been threatening to overtake her since they'd lost contact with Gibbs. Her partner stares down at her, patent smile in place, but it lacks it's usual brilliance ever since this mission went South. He's got dark circles under his eyes that she knows also haunt her own. Exhaustion has been their shadowy companion with each day they've spent here. She's never felt quite this tired.

But the selection of food he brings her to begin her day helps to fuel her, just a little bit.

She gives him her best attempt at a smile in return, folding her paper and tucking it away as he slides a muffin and fruit on a plate before her.

"_Bon Appétit,_ " He tells her with a roughish grin, and it doesn't fail her attention that he was able to acquire her favorite muffin that was, until several minutes ago when they first walked into the cafe, sold out.

She flashes the rare smile he so often chases, tucking a stray curl behind her hair to hide the blush she feels heat her face, before popping a piece of her fruit into her mouth. Her eyes follow him up and down as she chews, amused suspicion alight in her eyes, and he holds her gaze, a fond smile pulling at his mouth.

Swallowing, she examines another piece of strawberry, and her eyes drift back to him.

"How did you get my muffin? I thought they had sold the last one."

Tony's eyes twinkle, and for a moment the stress of the last three weeks has all but vanished from his face. He holds her eyes for a few more seconds, then drops them to his plate as he rips into his croissant.

"That's classified information." He says more to his croissant, taking a bite. He looks up, and her expression causes him to smirk.

They fall into silence, and as they continue their breakfast the seriousness of their situation begins to creep over her again. She begins to tear off bits of the muffin, and her eyes glance around the bustling street around them. Without their banter, the silence grows more omnipresent and the inhabitants around them each begin to feel like the threats they've so desperately been trying to avoid.

Tony, attuned to her as always, senses her unease.

"We're fine." He murmurs, and her gaze darts back from the street to his face." I cleared the place twice to be sure. No one has found us." They both hear the word he doesn't say.

_Yet_.

His words seem to have the opposite affect on her. Her eyes grow darker with fear and her mouth becomes a thin line. He puts down his fork as she shifts forward to lean toward him across the table

"That's what we thought last time," She whispers harshly, eyes swirling with intensity. Her head whips to each side, and he knows she's cataloged every individual within distance of them and estimated just how much force will be necessary to take them each out respectively. And really, he doesn't blame her, because the last time was just _too_ close of a call.

Feeling eyes on them, they glance to the table on their left to see that the older couple beside them had paused over their meal and were casting the partners curious glances. Tony smiles politely, and when he turns back to Ziva he blinks in surprise at how close they'd leaned towards another. Ziva recovers faster, however, and casts an easy smile to the inquisitive couple, before spearing a piece of leftover fruit with her fork and holding it up to Tony, and raises her voice.

"I'm telling you, they serve the freshest fruit here, _baby_. You _have_ to try it."

If Tony hadn't been staring at her as the words tumbled out of her mouth, he wouldn't have believed Ziva had spoken. He has barely a second to register what she said before he feels her stabbing his mouth with the speared fruit.

She smiles sweetly as he chews in bewilderment, and he wipes at his mouth trying to rub the pain away, knowing she probably meant for her fork to poke him with excessive force.

The couple, satisfied with their less than suspicious interaction, turned back to their meal. Ziva's gathering up her bag and the trench-coat jacket, Tony was sure, she acquired off somebody on the street in recent weeks. Taking her cue, he finishes chewing and hastily chugs the last of his now tepid coffee, before pushing in his chair and chasing after her as she darts across the street.

"Where did _that_ come from?" He asks, huffing from exertion, coming up beside her. Ziva fights a smile, looking at the map she'd pulled out of the depths of the coat she's swimming in, and Tony remembers just why she'd chosen a monster of a coat, and pulls the collar of his coat up higher. They're dressing to hide.

Finding the destination she seeks on her map, she folds it away again and turns briefly to look at him.

"I'm an American now, Tony. And like, a totally trained investigator." She echoes the polished, feminine accent from before.

He bows his head, body shaking with suppressed laughter. Her smile fades after a few moments though, and sobers quickly.

"That was exactly what I was talking about. We are attracting attention. We need to be more careful, if they find us again -"

"They won't, if we keep moving." Tony's sobered in kind. He can still tell she's unnerved, and it makes him anxious just how out of her element his partner's been since the last ambush they experienced. He sighs, stepping closer and reaching out a hand to softly brush her curls back. She leans into his touch, relaxing automatically to the gesture he's adopted as of late that's rapidly becoming familiar. His thumb brushes her cheek gently, and he lets his arm fall to tangle his hand with hers.

Ziva's grip on him tightens, pulling him through the throng of people as they make their way down the crowded street. She scans every individual her eyes fall on, and Tony mimics her from behind, discretely peering over his shoulder and around at the passerby, into each alley they pass, and those who step a little too close.

They travel three blocks before stopping at another corner, and Ziva's hand jiggles in his as she waits impatiently for the traffic to ease. He searches his mind for a topic to talk about.

"When do we make contact again?"

Ziva glances around her before putting on a faux smile and fixing him with an adoring glow that only lovers show.

She fits herself to him, and he shifts back into his undercover act. He reaches his arms around her back, as if holding her close. Ziva's breath fans across his neck as she nuzzles close so only he can hear.

"Twenty two hours now," She murmurs, "Gibbs said be at the phone booth by fourteen hundred." His pulse jumps as goosebumps erupt where her breath touches, but his face doesn't betray his reaction. She places an open mouth kiss briefly under his jaw, and mercifully, the traffic yields and the crowd of people begin moving across the street.

He's still recovering while she's back to business, and once again he finds himself being pulled, this time down a less crowded street that lacks the afternoon bustle the previous blocks held. He tugs at her hand as they slow, and she doesn't look around to him as she answers his silent question.

"We will catch a cab here," She responds, rushed. "Illan will expect for us to have gone North. We will head West." Tony nods as if her ninja logic makes sense, though really he's not quite sure what her travel plans have been. He's allowed her to lead up to this point because she's much more familiar with this city than he is.

He looks around at the decrepit buildings and gray structures, and his gut churns uncomfortably. She moves along the sidewalk with familiarity, and ducks into a side street with him in tow.

"You've been here before." It isn't a question.

They stop, and Tony leans against a streetlight as Ziva waves down an unmarked car he assumes is their ride westward.

He sees something unfamiliar swirl in her eyes, and she settles him with a loaded look.

"Yes."

The car begins to pull up, and Tony pushes off the post to be ready to open the door. He keeps his eyes on her, and urges her to answer his next unspoken question.

Ziva's mask falls, and her vulnerability peeks through. Just long enough.

"My mother…. this is where she lived. Up until she died."

Understanding passes between them, and the car has parked beside the pair. Tony reaches for the door, and leans in to relay to the driver their destination.

"Ziva," He says without glancing over his shoulder, "Where'd you say we were going?"

She doesn't respond, and he grumbles, annoyed.

"Ziva-"

He looks behind him, and his stomach drops.

Ziva's hand has disappeared into her coat, and she stares fiercely in the direction they'd just come.

Three men make their way toward them at a fast pace, and they're already out of time.

He feels it before he even knows consciously what she's about to do. One quick, cut glance to him had enough fear there to stop him cold.

But it wasn't fear for herself. It was fear for _him_.

Drawing her gun, Ziva makes her decision before giving herself time to think about it. She pushes him the rest of the way into the cab, yelling a strangled German name before slamming the door on her partner, shouting a final _GO._

Tony falls across the backseat in shock, and hurries to right himself as the car careens down the road.

Her eyes meet his for a millisecond before he watches her take off down the street, the three men hot on her heels.

* * *

"Make contact with me in a week. Fourteen hundred. McGee will send you the street for the phone booth on the burner. Then get rid of it."

Ziva listens to their bosses gruff command as her eyes fall across the darkened room toward her partner, tangled in the sheets and sleeping peacefully.

"Yes, Gibbs." She whispers, pulling at the hem of Tony's shirt that falls just to the middle of her thighs. Goosebumps erupt on her bare legs, and she tries to tug the shirt farther to cover more skin.

"Be careful, David. Watch each others backs."

She smiles softly as her gaze lingers on Tony's sleeping form.

"Always."

"And one more thing," He sounds so tired all of a sudden, and a little…._desperate_?

"Don't get separated."


End file.
